


Not just some Guy eating Syrup

by Valdyr



Series: Not Just... [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: But they're both still good guys, Dub-con or maybe prostitution?, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Feels, It's SPN after all, Let's just say that Sam and Gabe got issues with all the Dean-killing going on, M/M, Oh screw tags, Questionable Choices and Behavior, but you knew that, with issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-24 05:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12006246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valdyr/pseuds/Valdyr
Summary: The day was doomed when it started with Heat of the Moment. But that was not just chance, it was chosen to remind him and his hatred for the reminder was trumped only by his hatred for the lesson he was being taught.





	1. Dude, Asia?

**Author's Note:**

> I've been busy for some time, but I think I'm back now and will tackle this Sabriel story alright! Hope you like it :)

_"It was the heat of the moment_  
_Telling me what your heart meant_  
_The heat of the moment shone in your eyes."_

It was just morning and the day was already doomed. It was that song. Gabe's song. The Trickster's. The tune of choice of that monster that had murdered a few people and fucked him in between. The monster he had mourned. The monster that had come back to soothe his dreams. The one that made him feel so good that it made him feel awful.

 _("I never meant to be so bad to you_  
_One thing I said that I would never do_  
_A look from you and I would fall from grace_  
_And that would wipe this smile right from my face")_

He shoved the memory down with force and shooled his features to hide the pained grimace any reminder of that brought onto his face. He couldn't think about the trickster. It always went the same way:

'Had the kindness been a trick? Then why not use it to save his life, plead Sam to believe in his goodness? But had it been sincere? Then why kill people without inherent need, just for fun? How did that fit together?'

He shook the thought away in anger. He would never know. He hadn't even dreamt of Gabe in ages. Not since he had died and come back through a Dean's demon deal. Now _he_ was just a memory anymore. And the song was just an unfortunate product of chance. So Sam ignored his brother dancing to it, stood up and got ready for the day. They had a so-called mystery spot to check out.

By the time the waitress sprinkled his pants with hot sauce he had almost managed to forget about the song and the pulsing ache of not being able to tell Dean why it hurt that he so carelessly rejoiced to that song. Because his pain was a secret. But he had to focus now. A man was missing, he might have died, and it had happened at a mystery spot.

Now Dean might find that to be a reason for ridicule, but for Sam it meant a lot of civilians at risk. Because the mystery spot attracted tourists and that meant both an increased supply of potential future victims and the possibility of overlooked past victims. After all, not all tourists passing through mentioned to loved ones what they might have seen advertisements for on the way, so their last known locations could be dozens of miles away if not more, leading to no-one connecting them to this crime scene.

All in all, it was worth looking into. So they checked the place out after dark and Sam stepped into a dream. Because it had to be a dream. It couldn't be real. There was no way Dean was really dying from a human's shotgun going off by accident. Dean Winchester had survived poltergeists, wendigoes, vampires, demigods, even the fricking yellow-eyed demon! He had only a few months left before a hellhound would come to claim his soul and now he was dying through a human?!

Reality hit him in slow motion. A reality he had never prepared for. A reality he had always thought he would see coming when it neared and that had still managed to take him by surprise. It had pulled the rug out from under him and he was falling. He thought he might be wailing, too. Or crying. Probably one of them. Or both. He couldn't tell. The world was spinning around him too fast to see...

 _"It was the heat of the moment_  
_Telling me what your heart meant_  
_The heat of the moment shone in your eyes."_

He blinked at first and looked around, just taking his surroundings in. Bed? Dean! What?! And then he realized: Nothing had happened. His waking brain must have simply heard the song and the association had caused him to have a terrible dream about losing a loved one. He felt another pang of guilt at comparing his brother to a monster, but it paled in the face of his relief. Dean was fine. Everything was alright.

With a sigh he went about his day and his relief slowly trickled away. He had seen the diner from the outside before they got their room the night before, so he could have remembered the design in his dream, but he had never seen the inside or the waitress. ...So how could they look exactly like the ones conjured by his sleepy brain?

The day's special was the same, too. How could he have anticipated this? And then the hot sauce fell and he got a really, really bad feeling.

When the barking dog followed, bumping into the girl and then the movers, it was not a feeling anymore. He didn't know what had happened, but today was yesterday and he couldn't let Dean into the mystery spot after dark. But that didn't save him. Dean died again. And...

 _"It was the heat of the moment!_ _"_

Crap.


	2. Groundhog Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this story is close to canon, expect lines straight from the episode. Chuck, that was an awesome episode.

It was not Déjà vu, thank you very much, Dean.

Nope, Sam was officially in a time loop. Bloody mystery spot. He knew what would happen and it was already driving him nuts as he could count down all the things before. He had caught the hot sauce, again, and was trying his damnedest to explain it to Dean. This time earlier. The only good thing about this whole horror show was that Dean believed him and took it seriously. But then, he was pleading by this point. He couldn't watch his brother die again.

They passed the dog and countdown continued. The woman bumped into Dean and he checked it off his mental list. They passed the movers and Sam's skin itched with nerves. Then he had to explain himself to Dean again, which was always annoying, but right now drove him to the edge of what was bearable. Couldn't Dean guess that he was already questioning himself enough for the both of them?

Of course then Dean had to suggest going to the mystery spot after dark again and the memory of Dean's lead shot riddled body assaulted his mind and heart. He barely got back to his senses in time to catch Dean before he walked onto the street and the old man shot past them way too fast mere inches from Dean, yelling something in accusation like he had not run a pedestrian over just one Tuesday ago. Sam could have raised hell at him and shoved his driving license down his scraggy throat, but the urge was overwhelmed by his relief. Dean was still alive.

Unfortunately he was also still Dean. And if Sam didn't love him so much, he would be done with his shit right about now. So he wanted to know if his horrific death had looked cool like in the movies? Well, no! It had been awful, horrible, gut-wrenching and every other word for terrible the English langue could offer. But oh no, if he said so, he just knew Dean too well, his big brother would make some dumb douche comment with his stupid grin and dismiss his feelings like he had reacted any less emotional when Sam had died. He had sacrificed his soul for crying out loud! But no, if Sam had feelings that would be too chick-flick-y for him.

So Sam kept it to himself and just deflated Dean right there:

"You peed yourself."

"Of course I peed myself. Man gets hit by a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? Come on!"

Nice retort, Dean. But he had seen the flush of disgust on first thought and the hint of anxiety as big brother Dean checked the road for nearing cars before crossing now. Altogether it didn't make Sam feel better, but at least now Dean was not in the mood to make it worse for him anymore.

The owner of the mystery spot, however, didn't get his clipped tone and made it just that bit harder to suppress his urgent desire to break his neck. He did understand, though, when Sam got really close in his face, using his height to full advantage as he towered over the slogan-spitting greaseball to instill the fear of Sam Winchester in him.

And it worked wonders! Now they knew that it was all a waste of time and this waste of flesh knew nothing of import to them. That didn't erase Sam's desire to see him tremble in terror, but it motivated Dean to cautiously lead him out. While he felt better without having to look at the spot where Dean died and the person responsible, though, it didn't change what a failure that trip had been. And what that meant for them.

Since the mystery spot was nothing more than a hoax to shake cash from tourists and Sam was in a time loop anyway, they now knew only that they were under attack, but not why or how or by whom, much less how to fight them. Sam knew nothing but the imminence of heartbreak.

To Dean everything seemed simple, of course. He just had to survive until tomorrow and everything would be fine. Well, easier said than done. He was dead before he could make three steps. And it was _"the heat of the moment!"_

He rose on instinct and saw Dean alive again saying the exact same thing he had already said the day before and the day before that. But no, Sam was far too wrecked to rise and shine, so he just dropped down again to the light squeaking of cheap bed springs.

But strangely, he didn't hurt so badly today. He was mostly just hollow now. Still he explained it to Dean and they agreed to keep him alive as their only plan-imitating idea. Dean acted like it was easy. But Sam already prepared the countdown in his head. Dean had ordered the special, next would be the hot sauce, then the dog, the woman, the movers and finally the car before Dean would probably die in some crazy new way.

He didn't get that far this time. Dean had just managed to squeeze some hope into him when he started choking on his sausage and Sam's barely-there smile fell off his face completely. Why had he deluded himself?

_"Heat of the moment!"_

God, he hated that song. Of all the songs in the world, why did he have to be stuck with that one? Like this wasn't bad enough in and of itself. But no, whining would be of no use to him now. Breakfast at the diner was a danger, so he kept Dean inside. But...

_"Heat of the moment!"_

Freaking slippery shower. So: No shower for Dean today. Dean complained, but let himself be persuaded and they ordered some breakfast in to avoid leaving the motel room and facing the dangers of the outside world.

_"Heat of the moment!"_

Fucking tacos. Fine. A man could not starve after just one day of no food, so Dean would just have to go hungry today. Then the lights flickered.

_"Heat of the moment!"_

Motherfucking shave! Who cared if he had a beard or not?! Nope, their defensive stance wasn't working. They couldn't remain passive, it just couldn't go on! They had to attack. So it might not be the mystery spot, but they had nothing else to go on and one hell of a lot of anger pent up that needed to be released. He didn't care what Dean thought, he was gonna tear that thing down.

_"Heat of the moment!"_

_"Heat of the moment!"_

_"Heat of the moment!"_

_...  ....  .....  ......   ......   ..........    .................._

Fine. He quit. Any rage he had every held was sniffed out and everything was routine to him now. He was tired. Also 'grumpy', as Dean called it. But mostly he didn't care anymore. Even Dean's deaths were mostly annoying now. After all, they held no meaning anymore when he knew they would be undone in a moment for his daily reset. Because that was what he knew. All he knew right now. No matter what he did, he couldn't save Dean, and the moment he failed he got to try again, already doomed to fail. Forever.

This Tuesday Dean actually surprised him as he went after that woman that always bumped into him. It ultimately didn't matter. Nothing did. This change would just lead to a new plethora of slightly different Tuesdays that still all ended in Dean's death. But surprises had become rare to him, so he listened. It actually seemed interesting. He was still right, of course.

_"Heat of the moment!"_

But this new idea lead him to research the original victim more. He had been so focussed on his own situation and trying to find a way out of it that he had all but forgotten about the last guy this place had messed with. Professor Dexter Hasselback. Previously they had just gone on the police report, but that one was apparently lacking. That first victim had debunked and finanically ruined tourist attractions just ike the mystery spot they had been investigating. And he was an ass the size of Texas.

It rubbed Sam the wrong way, but ironically it was Dean who lifted the veil from off his eyes:

"It's funny, you know? I mean this guy spends his whole life crapping on mystery spots and then he vanishes at one. Kinda poetic, you know? Like just deserts."

He almost winced as the truth hit him. On some Tuesdays he had wondered if God hated him to taunt him with Heat of the Moment on top of everything else or it was payback somehow, but then dismissed it as paranoia. The Trickster was dead and no-one else knew what the song meant to him. Well, God would know. But if that one even existed in the first place, He probably wouldn't bother to pay all this attention to him of all people.

Except of course, if the trickster he knew had not been the only one to know. After all, trickster was a type of pagan god, not just one individual. Was this revenge for Gabe? A trickster could pull something like this off, throwing a person into a time loop, and the song might have never been random. Maybe it had been trying to tell him why all this was happing all along. Like: 'You betrayed one of us, so now you'll suffer forever.'

Had Gabe had trickster friends or a trickster family or something whom he'd told about Sam and then they found out that Gabe had died because of him and were out to get him for it? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe tricksters just liked the song because of their typical character or something but it definitely looked like his time loop was the work of a trickster.

So this all depended on finding one creature and killing it. And he would be free. Alright. That sounded like a plan. Surely the thing would want to watch so it had to be close-by and it would look like a human. Sam's senses were sharpened and he scanned every person in sight. Oh. There! Gotcha damnit!

An anomaly. Of course a trickster would get bored after a couple hundred Tuesdays and break character. Because nothing, nothing every changed unless he caused it. Except if another being also remembered the previous Tuesdays, but no human did.

Dean could dismiss the detail all he wanted, but he knew the gravity of even just another flavor. Because it was not just a flavor, it was a choice. A choice that some random human customer wouldn't have made. So call him paranoid, but Sam knew that the being that had always quietly sat there within hearing distance of him and his brother was not just some guy eating syrup. It was a god. And a monster he would kill.

_"Heat of the moment!"_

Yeah. Heat he could get. When Sam woke this Tuesday, he woke with a plan. For the first time, he knew what to do. He was not confused, creeped out, scared, angry or tired today. He was keen. Keen and determined to gank that son of a bitch. So he got his wooden stake and went on the prowl. After all, it was Tuesday. So he knew exactly where his prey would be.

At the diner, he could barely restrain himself. He wanted to impale the monster so badly. But if he succeeded, there would be no more do-over. And if this version of Tuesday was to be the one he would continue to live with, he couldn't very well stake a guy in public. So he waited as Dean ate, his gaze trained on the trickster and his syrup. It was maple again, not strawberry like last Tuesday, confirming his theory.

Then the guy left, just like last Tuesday, and so Sam grabbed his stake, hidden in a paper bag so as not to freak the civilians out and cause them to alert the god. He followed the trickster, silent as a jungle cat, while Dean trotted after him. He thought. Probably. He didn't check. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting the trickster.

So when they reached a more secluded area with no witnesses, he grabbed the man and shoved him against the wire mesh fence. Within the blink of an eye he had the stake at the guy's throat, ready to impale, and near growled:

"I know who you are! Or should I say what?"

The monster faked ignorance of course, a wolf in sheep's clothing trying to baa. But it didn't shake Sam. Dean was concerned, but he didn't understand, so Sam paid him no heed.

"It took me a hell of a long time, but I got it."

"What?"

"It's your MO that gave you away. Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just deserts? Your kind loves that, don't they?"

The trickster refused to reveal himself but Sam had no doubt, no matter what his brother said. He wasn't fooled. Not anymore. Not a single Tuesday more.

"No! There's only one creature powerful enough to do what you're doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops! In fact, you'd pretty much have to be a god. You'd have to be a trickster."

But the bloody trickster insisted and spewed some nonesense about a human background. Oh, he had it with this thing!

"Don't lie to me, I know what you are! We've killed one of your kind before!"

It hurt to say, but it had to be said, and with that his world fell apart. The guy's face morphed and revealed Gabe. Smirking. How could he ...? Gabe?!

"Actually, bucko, you didn't."

Sam didn't even notice the shock on Dean's formerly worried and uncertain face, so great was his own. Gabe was dead. They had killed him. He had mourned him! There was so much he wanted to say: How are you alive? Where were you? Was it the real you in my dreams? The list went on, but only one thing made it to his mouth:

"Why are you doing this?"

The 'to me' remained unspoken, but he was sure it was heard.

"You're joking, right? You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn't I do this?"

Really? On any other day, he would understand that, but with Gabe...? It felt so impersonal. He could barely hold it together, but Dean used his momentary silence to ask about the first victim and the response sounded just the same. The trickster's usual. A dick gets dropped in a wormhole. It even got a laugh out of the god.

Like nothing ever happened.

Sam didn't even know what hurt more. That his lover had done this to him or that it was just another joke to him. That he had left to impact. That it had clearly meant nothing to the god. He had been scared for a second that the trickster would taunt him with it or tell Dean. But this was so much worse. It wasn't even worth mentioning. Or maybe the god had simply forgotten that they ever had anything. It hurt to breathe.

He tried to sound angry, but just came out jagged and breathy and broken: "So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?"

In truth, he didn't want to know. But he couldn't help asking. He should have stopped himself. Because now for the first time, the trickster looked him straight in the eye, no smile on his face, and spoke dead serious:

"One: Yes, it is fun. And two: This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on you, Sam."

Sam, not bucko, kid, boy, bad boy or any of the other ridiculous names he had called him in his dreams. Sam, like he only ever called him when the hunter was anxious and needed reassurance. But this was not meant to reassure him. This was deep and personal and it hit him to the core. Even Gabe's eyes seemed almost to carry a shadow of sadness in them, but he might have been imagining that. What he knew he couldn't be imagining was Gabe's tone. The jolly chirp was gone from his voice and it held a depth he'd never heard before from the ever cheery lover of his dreams.

"Watching your brother die every day. Forever."

He wanted it to be sadness, he wanted it with all his heart, but the content just didn't match. It was malice. The trickster revealed his true nature. He was cruel.

"You son of a bitch."

And now he smirked again. It had something more grim than amused about it, but his words made his intentions undisputable:

"How long will it take you to realize... you can't save your brother ...no matter what."

He'd thought that, too. But not anymore:

"Oh, yeah? I kill you, this all ends now."

And there was fire in Gabe's eyes. Did he think Sam wouldn't go through with it? He would. So he pressed the stake harder into the trickster throat and his eyes fluttered and flew up amidst noise as if to calm him down, but there was no calming down for Sam. Still the trickster spoke and Sam waited to hear him out without even realizing it.

"Okay. Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke? Fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you wake up, it'll be Wednesday. I swear."

But it was never that easy, was it? The worm was just trying to wriggle out of a bad situation.

"You're lying."

"If I am, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner."

"No, easier to just kill you."

"Sorry, kiddo, can't have that."

Back to nicknames now and there he snapped his fingers and...

_"You better promise me,_

_I'll be back in time!"_

What? He had been expecting something to happen where they were, then from the abrupt change to being in bed Heat of the Moment. But... That was a different song. It was never a different song. And Dean was in a different position, too. It... h... g.. He couldn't think. He needed time to process what was going on. Wait, time! It was... WEDNESDAY!

The trickster had kept his word! That meant- Nope, irrelevant. He'd think on it later. Right now they just had to get the hell away before the god changed his mind or something like that. So they packed as fast as they could, Dean went ahead while he grabbed the last few things and there was a gunshot.

He should be used to it by now. But it wasn't Tuesday anymore and he stilled in fear. ...He could be paranoid. A car could have backfired and he was just overinterpreting things because the Tuesdays had given him PTSD or something. But no, he couldn't lie to himself. It wouldn't work.

"Dean!"

And once more, Dean was dead. But it was Wednesday! Was that the trickster's cruel new trick? Would he now live through a hundred Wednesdays watching his brother die? It hurt, because he hadn't expected this, he'd thought he was free now, but in the end it was still temporary. He pressed his eyes together and expected to wake up to the new song again.

But nothing happened. Nothing. What? He should wake up now to Dean back alive. But he was still awake and Dean still dead. Nothing happened, he realized. Dean was still dead.

That was the cruel trick. He was released from the endless cycle. No more time loops. But the end was still the same. Dean was dead. It just wasn't the end anymore. Time went on with Dean dead, no do-overs anymore, it just went on and on. He had to live with his brother's death.

That night when he dreamt, he called to Gabe again. But there was no heavenly light. Just a whisper in the dark:

_"Now you call me? Why now? I can't help you anymore. You should have called when you needed me, Sammy. It is too late now. You have sealed your fates. I'm sorry, but this is the truth."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I did it justice. (Expect more divergence when Dean isn't listening.) Thoughts?


	3. Bro before Ho

_"Now you call me? Why now? I can't help you anymore. You should have called when you needed me, Sammy. It is too late now. You have sealed your fates. I'm sorry, but this is the truth."_

And nothing more. He yelled and wailed, but nothing more could be heard or seen. The next night, there was nothing at all. For the next week he tried every night to call the trickster into his dream, but Gabe wouldn't come. He kept trying for several weeks more. But his failure bred frustration and when his frustrated tears dried, only anger was left to him.

Gabe had abandoned him. He complained that Sam had not called for him when he should have and now that Sam was doing so with nary a break the trickster ignored him. How could he do that?! Sam had gone to the point of begging for his return, even just to explain what he had meant with his last message.

When should Sam have called him? He always had when he had had a nightmare that he needed Gabe to save him from. Why was it too late? What fate had he sealed? Did he mean that it was too late to gain the trickster's forgiveness and he was now condemned to the fate of a god's punishment?

That was understandable, if Gabe was vindictive. But it didn't fit that the god had said 'fates', plural. Or maybe he had misheard? But it also hadn't sounded resentful and unforgiving. He had sounded as sad as Sam himself. The hunter could rip his own hairs out. So many questions! But the trickster refused to answer them. Or maybe there was not even an answer. Maybe he just wanted to torment Sam more. Maybe it was just another mind game, one last dose of psychological torture before he left.

Time made Sam bitter and angry and hunting alone, constantly reminded that his former lover had robbed him of his brother, made him fierce and vicious. Even groups of monsters would not want to face him now, because every time he killed something, he imagined that it was the trickster, laughing as he murdered Dean all over again.

He didn't even wince when he got hurt. He just thought every time that Dean would have covered him, if he had been there. But he wasn't there. He was gone, because the trickster had taken him.

Sam didn't even count how much time passed, he only vaguely measured it in calls from Bobby. Bobby. The only person on earth who still cared about how he was doing. Because the other person was dead by his lover's power. He should never have felt conflicted about the monster's death. It was just a monster. They hunted monsters.

His brother wouldn't have fallen for a monster. He would have noticed that what he was flirting with was a creature, a killer, and he would have killed it first. Long before any of this. But Sam had been weak and now his brother was dead because of him. But he would be avenged. Months passed and Sam had only one goal: To gank the trickster for his brother.

He barely listened to Bobby's calls. They brought him no further in his mission. Just compliments and concerns. Useless. Until it wasn't:

"Sam? It's Bobby. I found him."

He took the call. And the road back to the mystery spot flew passed him. He wasn't happy or eager. He didn't quite trust Bobby on this. The older hunter could easily have lied to manipulate him. To get him to come so he could take care of him or something. But Sam did not need that. He only needed to hunt the trickster down. If Bobby really had a shot at the thing, he would not pass it up, but he was cautious. And he brought a stake ready to kill in a moment's time.

When he got there, he saw no trickster. Just Bobby bent over what looked like a ritual site. So Bobby had not found the trickster, just a possible way to him. Obvious. But Bobby didn't show any guilt for his stretch of the truth. He just came at him for a hug.

"It's good to see you, boy."

Sam did not respond. He just stared at the ritual preparations and tried to remember if Bobby had ever hugged him like that. He had rather expected some kind of growled remark. Like: 'Nice of you to show you.' He kept it in mind for inspection and remained neutral.

"What are we doing here, Bobby?"

"This is the last place we're sure the trickster worked his magic."

The face to accompany those words looked genuine enough, but the words themselves were faulty. Not only would Sam have rather expected a complaint that he did not get so much as a 'hello' after months of worrying if he was even still alive, but this was also not the right place.

They didn't actually know if the trickster had ever walked into the tourist attraction, since the professor had only been on the way last anyone heard, they had only seen the trickster in the diner and Sam's loop always started in his motel room. Considering that, a motel room was the best place for such a ritual as they would be undisturbed, while coming to the mystery spot at night had already caused a run-in with the owner once.

It was undeniable that the mystery spot had the better ambience for a ritual to summon the trickster, but an old hunter like Bobby shouldn't have cared about dramatics. Sam kept his tone neutral.

"So?"

"So you want this thing? I found a summoning ritual to bring the trickster here."

Alright. He'd guessed that. He didn't trust it would work, but he wanted his brother back. Cost be damned. So he was willing to work with this.

"What do we need?"

"Blood."

"How much blood?"

"Ritual says near a gallon. And it's gotta be fresh, too."

... "Meaning we have to bleed a person dry."

"And it's gotta be tonight, or not for another fifty years."

Huh, that seemed a bit random. And Bobby, who loved his lore, didn't offer any explanation as to why. But in the end it didn't matter. Months had passed and he was sure he had changed, too.

"Then let's go get some."

Silence followed and when he looked Bobby in the eyes again, a whisper of words met him that shouldn't have:

"You break my heart, kid."

There should have been outrage. Bobby should have called him nuts. Had he changed so much through their period of no contact?

"What?"

"I'm not gonna let you murder an innocent man."

Excuse me? You started this! He wanted to yell, but controlled his voice:

"Then why did you bring me here?"

"Why? Because it was the only way you'd see me! Because I'm trying to knock some sense into you! Because I thought you'd back down from killing a man!"

"Well you thought wrong. Leave the stuff. I'll do it myself."

He had to understand. While the last bit sounded more like the Bobby he knew, he cared little by this point. If he had a chance, he would seize it. But Bobby resisted:

"I told you, I'm not gonna let you kill anyone."

"It's none of your damn business what I do!"

He was already preparing a response to what he knew Bobby would say. The one and only thing he could say to that: That of course it was his damn business, because Sam and Dean were his boys and he cared about them like a father would about his own sons. He might even add that he had already lost one, so he would care about Sam all the more.

But to Sam's shock, the exact opposite happened, silent and eerie:

"You want your brother back so bad..."

And then Bobby took a dagger from his bag and held it out to him:

"Fine."

He didn't get it. This was all wrong. His skin itched all over and shivers ran up and down his back. This was not like Bobby. This was different. Something pawed at the back of his head, this reminded him of something. But not Bobby.

"What are you talking about?"

"Better me than a civilian."

"You're crazy, Bobby. I'm not killing you."

"Oh, now I'm the crazy one. Look, Sam. I'm old. I'm coming near the end of my trail. But you can keep fighting, saving folks. But you need your brother. So let me give him back to you."

No, no no no no. There it was again. Something was wrong with the way his voice changed when he started on needing his brother. Something was wrong with this whole thing, but he just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Bobby?"

"You and Dean, you- You boys are the closest thing I have to family. I wanna do this."

Okay that sounded like it should. Or maybe it just tugged on his heartstrings too much for him to properly judge. Still he took the dagger.

"Okay."

"Good."

But that again... Ugh, he was just overthinking this, surely. But then Bobby turned away from him and knelt down said what might be his last words:

"Just make it quick. Do it, son."

But no. Not before he understood. He needed to understand it. So he went back and forth over their conversation, always getting stuck on the 'You want your brother back so back...Fine'. It felt out of place. Even just as he remembered it, he could almost hear it in a different voice, it was... It was like...

_"You can't take a joke? Fine. You're out of it."_

He almost gasped when he realized it, but then he just hardened his features and replaced the dagger. He took the stake instead.

"Yeah, okay, 'Bobby'."

He knew he shouldn't, but after everything he just could not help himself. He was boiling with rage at the other's daring. So he closed in. "But do you wanna know why?" And he grabbed the thing around the throat and rammed the stake through its back and heart until the tip jutted out from its chest.

"Because you're not Bobby."

He twisted the stake just a bit to cause more pain while hot nlood soaked his pants and dropped the body as he stood again to tower over it, waiting for the facade to shimmer away. Just... There was no bluish shimmer. Nothing changed.

"Bobby?"

He couldn't... could he? No, he couldn't! He was sure! Oh by god, what had he done? He stomach fell into a deep dark pit and even though he still clung to his former conviction that this was the trickster, he was horrified at what he had done. What he had become. How he had stabbed someone without question or any kind of evidence toward his guilt. He was heaving breaths as panic flooded his head.

"Bobby!"

But the body remained the same.

"Bobby!!!"

And then it disappeared into a shimmer of blue and the stake dropped to the floor. There was not a speck of blood anywhere now. He had been right. Thank God. But then the stake started quivering and flew past him. He turned around with it and there just in front of him stood the god and caught it without looking, his gaze trained on Sam alone, dead serious.

But a second later it was overtaken by a massive grin that promised nothing good:

"You're right. I was just screwing with you."

And yet he didn't seem amused. His joy looked hollow and the creature all the more dangerous for it.

"Pretty good, though, Sam. Smart."

He walked as he spoke and Sam turned with him, feeling like the killer might pounce if he didn't keep him in sight.

"Let me tell you: Whoever said Dean was the dysfunctional one has never seen you wih a sharp object in your hands. Holy Full Metal Jacket!"

How could this creature speak of Dean? He wanted to rage against him. But all anger had fled him when he thought he had killed the real Bobby. He could not demand anymore, only weakly ask:

"Bring him back."

"Who, Dean?"

The frown that came with it was not encouraging and Sam could feel his voice wane, so he just nodded, silently begging.

"Didn't, my girl send you the flowers? Dean's dead. He ain't coming back. His soul's downstairs doing the hellfire rumba as we speak."

Yeah, he knew that. Dean was in hell, because of him. To save him. Which was only more reason Sam had to get this right.

"Just take us back to that Tuesday. Or Wednesday, when it all started, please. We won't come after you, I swear."

"You swear?"

The disbelief was dripping off every sound, but Sam meant it. He just wanted his brother back anymore.

"Yes."

"I don't knooow. EVen if I could-"

"You can!"

"True. But that don't mean I should."

But that was all the confirmation Sam needed. He steeled himself-

"Sam! There is a lesson here that I've been trying to drill into that freakish, Cro-Magnon skull of yours."

"Lesson? What lesson?"

 

He was sincerely stunned. But of course he wouldn't know. Gabriel could have cursed the boy. How can one and the same person be smart enough to see through fake Bobby in one moment and then too dumb to even realize that this whole thing had a purpose. Bloody hunter training, he was sure. Monster didn't have reasons, they were just evil for the sake of evil, right? Well, what could you expect of a loose group of untreated trauma victims out for revenge for the loved ones they lost to things they thought pure fantasy?

"There's no way out, nothing you can do to save him, Sammy. Dean's still doomed."

"Please. Please, I'd do anything. Gabe, why do you do this to me, what do you want from me?!"

"I want you to learn! I'm not torturing you, Sam, I am trying to teach you! Let go!"

"Never, he's my brother. Anything, please. Anything you choose. Anything at all."

Oh, for heaven's sake. He was being too nice.

"I swear, it's like talking to a brick wall."

But then Sam had to go and kneel before him with his huge wet eyes and quivering bottom lip:

"Please, Gabe, I beg you to give him back to me."

His voice shook with despair and Gabriel heard him with more than his ears. This was prayer and it took his mind right back to the glory days. When he was not just a threat or annoyance to people, but an angel of the lord, revered for his grace. And this was coming from Lucifer's vessel, the most beautiful angel's human counterpart.

He couldn't help how breathy his voice got, but this had to end before he grew too weak at the reminder of the brother he himself had lost so long ago:

"Don't give me ideas, Sammy."

He thought it was alright when Sam's eyes lost some of their desperate gleam and came to hold more resolve, but then there were hands on his belt and before he knew it the buckle was undone and so was the zipper and-

"Woah, woah, stop!"

"I thought you said..."

"Yeah, DON'T give me ideas. I don't take bribes, kid. I mean, I love your mouth, don't get me wrong. But this is really not what I was aiming for."

I did understand that his mounting arousal didn't really press his point, but that was not his doing. His vessel was just reacting to the warm breath on his groin area and his side-thoughts on what those plush lips could - theoretically - do for him. Then, however, the despair flashed again and Sam was mouthing at his cock through his underwear. Damn it.

He pressed hard against Sam's shoulders to push him off, but that might have been more useful with a larger vessel, with longer arms. And with more self control. His first attempt to push Sam off failed and there was no second one. He wanted to, by which he meant that he knew he should, even though he didn't want it.

But Sam had already pulled his waistband down and was licking him with determination. For a moment he thought of a housemaid scrubbing with all her strength at a persistent stain, giving it all she got, but that deviated into imagining Sam in a maid's costume and that didn't help. Not when Sam took the golf ball that was his cock head into his mouth and sucked on it, eye lids fluttering so prettily.

He should push him off. He definitely should. Totally. But every attempt to make himself push Sam off were in vain. The boy was just too much like Lucifer, without even knowing it. He was a tempter. And Gabriel could never resist temptation. So his trying to push against Sam's head for being a shorter way away than his shoulders only resulted in his hands fisting that silky soft hair, that had only grown longer since they had last met.

Sam took him deeper, swallowing repeatedly and scraping just that bit with his teeth, and pulled further still. If he couldn't stop himself, he might as well enjoy it properly. He didn't thrust, though. He could suppress that urge of his vessel's at least and in the end, didn't need to, anyway. Not with that tongue at work. So he just closed his eyes and dreamt. He dreamt that they were not at the mystery spot, but back at Crawford Hall and that Sam didn't know what he was. That they could be together with any of the worries about the future that plagued him now. Without Lucifer so soon to rise...

His climax was unexpected and his eyes snapped open as he keened, but then he looked down to Sam's desperate eyes, begging for the life of his brother, and he wrenched himself away.

"We shoudn't have done that."

"...please. I-I beg- I pray you!"

"Oh, now you pray to me?! Now? Why now?! Why couldn't you have spent a word while I could still help you! It's over now! We're all doomed already!"

"What? I'm not following."

"I should have prevented this, Sam. I should have stopped it before it began, but I didn't know! Why didn't you call me? I can't help you now. Don't you see? Dean is condemned. Of course I can undo this and bring him back as you keep asking, but what use is it? He won't last, Sam, he'll die soon enough and then you'll be right back where you are now. Why go through it again?"

"He's my brother."

He could only sigh and shake his head. What did it take to get through to Sam?

"It's too late for him, Sammy. He is forfeit."

"Why?!"

"Because he made a bloody deal with a demon! Okay?! That's what I'm telling you! He made that deal and now you can't do anything for him anymore. That's the point, Sam. The lesson! No matter what you do, Dean still dies. There is no way out now. He sealed his fate when he sold his soul."

"But just to save me... To bring me back!"

"I could have brought you back, Sam. I you could have told him about me, he could have summoned me and I would have brought you back to life in a heartbeat. No deal needed, nor payment. I could have done it. I WOULD have done it. Hell, you wouldn't even have died! If only you had called me. When Azazel took you, why didn't you tell me? Why did I have to hear about this after all was said and done? Why didn't you call me when you needed me? I could have exploded that yellow-eyed son of a bitch with the snap of my fingers and we could all have gone home!"

"You could...? But Azazel-"

"Was powerful for a demon. I won't deny it. He was older than you can imagine, but he was still a demon, while I am an- ...I am a god, Sam. I could have killed him and saved all the special children. I could have saved you. I should have. If only I had known. Oh, why couldn't you spare me a thought?"

"I thought you were dead."

"And you were so convinced that you couldn't even try?"

"I guess..."

Gabriel could see the thoughts whirl behind his eyes, but then something clicked and his voice became hard as stone:

"Or maybe I was too riled up by the revelaton that I had deon blood in me. About that, tell me trickster, since you are so very powerful, did you know?"

Shit. He was silent for a moment too long.

"You did! Is that why we happened? Did you know about the monster in me? Is that why you fucked me? Did my freakishness seem exotic to you or something messed up like that?"

"No. I just didn't mind, because that tiny little blot does nothing to dampen your inner beauty. I don't expect you to understand, though, you can't see what I see in you."

"You're right. I guess you have to be a monster to like one. Maybe that's why it was so easy for you to get me into bed. The demon in me knew what you were and wanted it. Well, I decide against the monster. Give back the brother that you took from me and disappear. I never want to be reminded of you again!"

"Stop it, Sammy, you're just being childish now-"

"DON'T CALL ME SAMMY! Only my brother gets to call me that."

He scanned the hunter's eyes, trying to find doubt in it. His words had cut so deep he hadn't been able to supress the wince entirely, even after millions of years to learn how to control his emotions, but there was no regret in the Winchester's eyes. He had closed himself off. No talking would be any use anymore. He had missed his chance. And it might have been the last he would ever have, but to stay would only mean to let himself be hurt more. But he could bear no more pain.

"Fine."

Just for a second, Sam was shocked, but then...:

_"You better promise me,_

_I'll be back in time!"_

What a song choice. After Heat of the Moment, he didn't believe in coincidence anymore and a part of him was already wondering if the trickster had always planned this, but then he spotted Dean and forgot about the god entirely.

He had his brother back and he would keep him forever. He would find a way out of the deal, he was sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or rather he would cry when the trickster's words came true. *Evil cackling*

**Author's Note:**

> According to my current plan, this fic is just Mystery Spot and the next one will be outside of canon, before Changing Channels and Hammer of the Gods, but I don't know if Gabe'll survive that one, so if more follows isn't decided yet. *Wink*Wink*  
> Also: Like what you're seeing so far?


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